


Monachopsis

by hiuythn



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron)-centric, Keith misses his team, Light Angst, M/M, Team as Family, VOLTRON SEASON 4, bc that's always fun to read amirite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-20 11:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12431433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiuythn/pseuds/hiuythn
Summary: He’s fine in the beginning—always been fine alone. But eventually, it takes a toll.---Lance exhales forcefully, scratching at his temple. “I know you said it wasn’t your thing, but…I mean, you weren’t all that bad.” He stares down at his hands. “You listened. After that thing with Lotor, you never went off on your own, never let any one of us fall behind. Don’t get me wrong, Shiro doesn’t either—but…we were partners.”He looks up at the ceiling, at the wall, at the floor. “I don’t know, I guess I’m saying I miss you.”Keith feels all the air leaves his lungs.





	1. Chapter 1

“—and when we landed, the crowd went _wild_.” Pidge laughs. “It was crazy!”

Keith leans further back into his pillow, a small smile on his face. Distantly, he hears the ever-present hiss and rumble of the Marmora base, and he pulls the sheets up past his shoulders.

“Bet you guys won over even more people to the coalition with that one,” he says.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe how swamped Allura and Shiro have been, just attending meeting after meeting…”

Pidge scrubs a hand through her hair, glancing off to the side. Keith frowns.

“Hey, are you guys okay?” he asks and Pidge looks up, blinking. “I mean, are you getting enough sleep or whatever?”

He’s never been good at this type of stuff, but he figures words are all he has, now that he can’t stomp off and drag Pidge to bed for staying up too long and doing whatever she does with her machines.

A small, genuine smile spreads on Pidge’s face and she waves a hand. “No, yeah, we’re good. Just a little tired but nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix. And yes, before you ask, I do plan on going to bed at a reasonable hour tonight.”

“Good,” says Keith and Pidge rolls her eyes. “So, tell me. What’s the scoreboard like now?”

“Oh _man_ ,” Pidge says, “okay. Obviously, yours hasn’t changed since you left. Shiro gets like a few dozen proposals from every planet we visit; everyone wants a piece of Voltron’s leader, right? Lance is into the larger double digits now—”

Keith snorts. “He must be happy about that; been complaining about our number gap for days.”

“Well, yeah. He hasn’t stopped doing the victory dance.”

There’s a pause where Pidge and Keith both consider that and try not to laugh.

“I try to avoid all that as much as I can,” Pidge continues, “but surprisingly, they still manage to find me. My score’s a little less than Lance’s. I didn’t bother counting Allura’s; it’s probably reached infinity by now. Coran ‘the Gorgeous Man’ is in denial about his score, and Hunk.” Pidge pushes her glasses up, and they flash against the screen’s dim lighting. She smirks.

“Hunk beat Shiro yesterday, by a landslide.”

Keith shoots up in his cot, mouth dropping open. “Holy shit!”

“Yeah!” Pidge says. “Okay, so I just mentioned how we landed on this planet—Huretka, right?”

Keith nods.

“Well, we were answering their distress call and long story short, Hunk ended up saving a vital energy source that powers the major cities and two of their food production facilities.”

“That’s some really bad engineering.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me, I get mad just thinking about it. ‘Indestructible’, my ass,” Pidge grumbles. “Anyways, we get into talks with them and at the end of it, Huretka asks for his hand in marriage. Let that sink in. _An entire planet—nine billion people—_ in love with Hunk because he stopped them from becoming a damn mess.”

Keith stares at her. “You’re not kidding?”

“No!” she laughs. “You should’ve seen Hunk’s face! No wait, Lance’s was even funnier, he kept alternating between overwhelming jealousy and incredible pride for Hunk. I wish I’d taken pictures to show you.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Like you haven’t already gotten into the security footage.”

Pidge looks off screen. “Well…”

A loud beep shatters the conversation, jarring and harsh. Keith jumps to his feet, the sheets falling to the ground, just as the door to his room slides open.

“Briefing room in five,” says an unfamiliar Blade member. He doesn’t wait to confirm Keith’s response.

Keith turns back to Pidge, an apology on his lips, but before he can say it, she says,

“Do they always do that? Is it standard to access the door from the outside?”

He pauses. “Yeah?”

Pidge frowns. “So…you’ve got no privacy.”

“It’s not so bad,” Keith says. “You get used to it, I guess.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with that, and her eyes narrow further. “Have you been wearing that the entire time?”

Keith looks down at himself. Same Marmora suit as always, minus a couple new scratches on the armor. He looks back up. “It’s easier to just keep it on.”

“Keith—”

“Listen, Pidge, I’m really sorry but we gotta cut this short. I’ve got a mission,” he says, reaching out to disconnect the call. “I’ll talk to you later?”

Pidge stares at him for a second longer, and then she sighs. Hitches the corner of her mouth into a crooked smile. “Yeah, Keith, I’ll see you later. Stay safe.”

He smiles back. “Sure thing.”

 

 

 

 

It’s been three weeks since he left.

Aside from being assigned more missions, nothing’s all that different. He was already entrenched in his training with the Blade before he decided to leave, and with frequent subspace calls back to the castle, Keith is fine.

It’s a bit…cold, he thinks, but Kolivan didn’t bat an eye when Keith requested extra blankets. He just nodded in that stoic way of his and said something typical about the state of one’s health affecting performance on missions.

Keith’s fine.

 

 

 

 

“—and then Matt just pulls out this datachip and we plug it in and suddenly, bam! We’ve got an algorithm that’s a thousand times better at tracking.” Hunk pops a chip in his mouth. “We geeked out over it for like, hours.”

“That’s great, Hunk,” says Keith. “And I’m glad to hear Pidge found him.”

Hunk leans back in his chair, feet propped on his workstation. “Yeah, I’m happy for the both of them. Hey, when do you think you can drop by for a visit? Matt’s met everyone on the team except you.”

Keith twitches. “I..I didn’t know he knew about me.”

“Well, of course he does.” Hunk gives him a weird look. “Pidge’s been telling all these embarrassing stories about you, like that time you spat your drink all over me, or that time you walked in on Lance wearing a face mask for the first time and nearly stabbed him because you thought he was a spy—”

“Alright, I think I get it,” Keith says loudly.

Hunk shrugs, unapologetic. “Man, I think she’s excited to introduce him to you. The last part of the picture that makes up Voltron, you know?”

Keith pulls his knees up to his chest. He shivers. His room’s been colder recently and he thinks about asking Kolivan about it. “Right. Yeah.”

“Hey, man, you okay over there? You’re lookin’ a little pale.”

“Fine,” Keith says. “Just cold.”

“Yeah, that suit doesn’t look very well-insulated.” Hunk hums. “You can’t wear your jacket over it?”

“Didn’t bring one,” says Keith, and a familiar beep fills the room.

Hunk’s mouth quirks down and he asks wryly, “Mission?”

“Yeah.” Keith rubs the back of his head, looking towards the door where Kolivan stands waiting. “Gotta go. Say hi to the others for me.”

“I will.” Hunk waves. “Watch yourself out there, buddy.’

The call ends and Keith walks out the door once more.

 

 

 

 

One month, three weeks.

When he sleeps, he curls inward. Ice-cold fingers tucked under his chin, he shudders.

 

 

 

 

Allura smiles. “Hello, Keith, it’s been a while, how—”

_BEEP._

Her smile falters. “Oh. Already?”

“I’m sorry, princess, it’s probably a follow-up operation,” Keith says. He moves away from the bed, where he’d been about to sit down. His thighs ache. “Maybe later?”

“Of course,” says Allura. “Later.”

 

 

 

 

_BEEP._

_Sorry—sorry I have to go—_

_BEEP._

 

_Tell me later, okay, Kolivan just—_

_BEEP._

_—hope you’re feeling better Coran—_

_BEEP._

_Is Pidge sleeping, isn’t Matt supposed to be her big brother—shit they’re calling me—_

_BEEP._

_Lance, I told you, Red likes it better when—shit sorry I’ll tell you later, promise—_

_BEEP._

_What, these? Psh, it’s nothing, just a couple scrapes, you should see the other guy—_

 

_BEEP._

Keith opens his eyes. The door slides open with a hiss and like a particularly disapproving guard, Kolivan stands in the rectangle of light. Keith squints and levers himself out of his cot, biting back a groan.

Yesterday’s operation was a bitch.

_(mission over individual. mission over individual)_

“No calls today?” Kolivan asks, watching steadily as Keith stumbles and catches himself with a hand to the wall. “You’re hurt. Have you used the healing pods?”

Keith shakes his head. Breathes out. “Just bruises. No need.”

“Our supplies aren’t so depleted that you must go without adequate care.”

Keith doesn’t reply. He steels his shoulders and raises his head, walking towards the door. His steps are measured. He gets to the threshold and Kolivan moves to the side, back into the corridor. His stare prickles at the side of Keith’s head.

“Your team. Your friends,” Kolivan says. “They have not called in many movements.”

Keith looks at him from the corner of his eye. “Busy, probably.” He looks away. “And I haven’t exactly been available, myself.”

“Hm.” Kolivan still hasn’t looked away. Abruptly, he says, “The mission I bring to you now is non-essential; another member could just as easily take your place. You are free to opt out of this one.”

Keith is silent.

_—take your place_

“No,” he says, “I’ll do it.”

 

 

 

 

Shiro calls once a month.

When they talk, it’s almost the same, but as time goes by, Shiro becomes…different. Different in a way Keith can’t pin down. He’s…he’s distant. Distracted, maybe a bit more reserved, less quick to smile. It reminds Keith of something, of purple markings and cold steel.

He chalks it up to exhaustion, to Shiro putting his all into the rebellion effort, and pushes his doubts to the side.

 

 

 

 

Three months in, Keith nearly dies.

Well, nearer than any other incident he’s had on Blade operations, before.

Mission: secure the galra base they’ve been infiltrating. Heavily fortified; it’s a stronghold that could widen the coalition’s reach. They’re briefed extensively on the advanced defense measures. There will be no extraction point, they are to take over, or die trying.

Thirteen operatives go in, but only seven of them last until the base is secure.

Keith is on the front-line, taking down bots and galra soldiers alike, while a handful of other Blade members sneak into the various control rooms to assume command of the systems.

Halfway into the fight, he lets his training lead his body, which would be fine, but he also lets his brain take a backseat.

He gives instinct the wheel. He doesn’t think. He should’ve known his attention was shot to hell, after taking back-to-back missions the past week. He should’ve let Kolivan know, should’ve switched out.

He makes it through his assigned section of the base, and is about to radio in when a bot catches him with a sword to the back. It slices clean through his suit, and Keith gasps. Tired as he is, the pain is enough to make his legs give out but he bares his teeth, growling.

He has enough strength left to twist around and let his dagger fly, burying it deep within the bot’s chest. It goes down, and Keith follows, feeling only relief at succeeding in his part.

_(mission over individual. mission over individual.)_

 

 

 

 

_(before he loses consciousness, with a flash of horror, he remembers—_

_the team)_

 

 

 

 

When he wakes up to Kolivan’s face hovering above him, the furrow between his eyes more pronounced than usual, Keith says, “Please don’t tell them.”

Kolivan says he won’t, but only because it’s Keith who should.

 

 

 

 

Keith doesn’t tell them.

 

 

 

 

When the call connects and Lance’s face shows up, Keith immediately says, “What’s wrong.”

Lance blinks, startled. “How did—what makes you think there’s something wrong?”

“It’s all over your face.” Keith frowns. “Seriously, Lance, what’s up?”

On screen, Lance is still, staring at him with faintly surprised but contemplative expression. “Figures it’d be you who notices.”

“Lance.”

“Alright, okay,” says Lance. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just. It’s gonna sound dumb.”

“It’s probably not gonna be any dumber than what you usually say,” says Keith. Lance flips him off. “Just tell me. You look like it’s eating you up.”

“Again! What am I, an open book?” Lance throws his hands in the air.

Keith shrugs. “Not really. I just got used to you when we trained together, and when…when you were my second.”

“Your second, huh,” Lance says. There’s something in his voice Keith doesn’t recognize. “Right. Uh. Well, okay, I guess I can tell you. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

Keith motions for him to go ahead and Lance nods, hesitant.

“Don’t. Don’t freak out, but it’s, uh. It’s Shiro.”

Keith pushes himself up into a sitting position, dragging the blankets with him. He restrains himself from assaulting Lance with the barrage of questions building on his tongue. He carefully considers them all and picks, “Is this about his headaches?”

“What?” Lance cocks his head. “No, I don’t anything about any headaches but uh. I don’t know, maybe it’s me, but the guy seems kind of. Closed-off, I guess?”

Keith makes an inquisitive noise.

“You know how before, he’d always be giving us pointers or quick little words of encouragement or something? Like during training or in combat?” Lance waits until Keith nods, and then continues. “Well, he doesn’t do that anymore. Like at all.”

“Stress, maybe?” suggests Keith.

“That’s what I thought, too, but we know what he looks like when he’s stressed. Remember Slav?”

“Oh, do I,” Keith says, grinning and Lance laughs. “Okay, fair enough. So, it’s not stress.”

Lance chews on his lips, rolling an alien trinket between his hands as he considers what to say next. Behind him, on the nightstand, are countless more objects. Souvenirs, no doubt. Keith can recognize some, but there’s more that he can’t. Abruptly, he’s reminded of the fact that it’s been four and a half months since he left. It’s strange to see physical evidence that things have moved on; in a static environment like the Marmora base, like his room with his single cot, like all the bases he infiltrates, it’s hard to notice time has passed.

He gives his head a forceful shake.

“Keith?”

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Keep going.”

“I don’t know, it’s just the little things that add up.” Lance rests his cheeks in his hands, and Keith takes in the circles under his eyes, the bruises on his arms when his robe slips down. “Dude never laughs anymore, which I get, because hello, we’re at war. But even Hunk’s food-goo choco-chip cookies couldn’t pull a smile from him.”

“Shiro teared up the first time he ate them,” says Keith slowly.

Lance nods, mouth tight. “…I mentioned it to Allura—‘cause they’ve been working together twenty-four seven, so I think out of everyone, she’d notice.” Lance shrugs. “Said she’d keep an eye out but she thinks it’s most likely just exhaustion.”

“There’s something else, too,” Lance continues, voice uncharacteristically subdued. He shifts uncomfortably in his bed, crossing and re-crossing his arms. “When—when we’re out in the field, in combat, Shiro…

“Shiro doesn’t listen.”

Keith tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

Lance makes a noise, frustrated, but Keith can tell it’s not directed at him. “Okay, like I know he’s top-tier, right, like even at the Garrison, he was a legend, but sometimes—just, sometimes he doesn’t hear me out.” Lance scrubs his hair with a hand. “When you were the leader, we had—we were partners, right? You said I was your second.”

Keith nods. “Yeah, of course.”

Oddly, Lance flushes pink at this, and Keith stares. Lance clears his throat loudly. “R-right, so. So, like when you miss something and I bring it up, you consider it and like most of the time, you agree—after like arguing about it _forever_ —”

“Lance,” Keith growls.

Lance raises his hands, smirking, and Keith relaxes at the familiar twist of those lips. “Sorry, sorry.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “You were saying?”

“Yeah, so we…we work together, there’s support there, you know.” Lance laughs slightly, and there’s that tint of pink on his cheeks again. “Never thought I’d see the day, but we’re good together. As partners—of a team! I mean. Yeah.”

Keith nods again, rubbing the back of his head, suddenly self-conscious. “And, uh, you don’t have that with Shiro?”

“No!” says Lance, sounding defensive and then confused, like he didn’t know why he said it like that. “No, that’s—that’s the problem. I’d suggest something and like it wouldn’t even be anything big, just like ‘oh, maybe we should back up a bit, that alien volcano looks unstable’ and he’d just brush it off and say something about focusing on the mission? And it doesn’t make sense because Shiro’s a reasonable guy but recently, it doesn’t seem that way.

“I don’t know, I’m just frustrated,” says Lance, “it’s all really insignificant stuff and I don’t know if I’m just. Being silly, or something.”

Keith leans towards the screen, shaking his head. “Lance, you aren’t being silly. You’ve got a good point, I’ve noticed something up with him, too.”

“You have?” Lance blinks. “Huh.”

Keith eyes the fidgeting of Lance’s fingers and sighs. “There’s something else you wanna say, isn’t there?”

Lance gives him a suspicious look. “Are you reading my mind, you alien?”

“Lance, you know that’s not something galra—you’re teasing me, aren’t you.”

Lance just laughs, tipping his head back. Keith’s gaze drops to his bared neck, follows the line of it down to his chest, where it disappears behind blue robes. He jerks his eyes away.

“You know, I kinda liked it when you were leader.”

Keith’s head snaps up. “What?”

Lance exhales forcefully, scratching at his temple. “I know you said it wasn’t your thing, but…I mean, you weren’t all that bad.” He stares down at his hands. “You listened. After that thing with Lotor, you never went off on your own, never let any one of us fall behind. Don’t get me wrong, Shiro doesn’t either—but…we were partners.”

He looks up at the ceiling, at the wall, at the floor. “I don’t know, I guess I’m saying I miss you.”

Keith feels all the air leaves his lungs. That’s…

Logically, he knows he wouldn’t have been forgotten the moment he left, but to actually hear someone say they missed him…to hear _Lance_ say it, is kind of…

“I miss you, too,” Keith says quietly. He clears his throat.

Lance presses his lips together. Nods. He hasn’t looked back at the screen, and his ears are red.

“Anyways, thanks for hearing me out. And it’s good to knowthat I’m not the only one who’s worried about Shiro,” he says, with a little laugh. "That I'm not the only one to notice."

Keith hums, thoughtful. “Even if it _was_ just you who noticed, I’d still believe it. You’ve never been wrong as my second. I trust you.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Lance groans, going red so fast Keith thinks he’s been hit with an alien virus. He sits up in concern.

“Lance, what—”

_BEEP._

“Shit,” Keith mutters, glancing at the door. When he looks back, Lance has his hands over his face. “Hey, I gotta go but uh, are you okay? Do you have a fever or something; you’re looking kinda hot.”

Keith jumps slightly when Lance all but yells into his hands, sputtering incoherently. He flaps a Keith, tucking his face into his shoulder. His eyes are squeezed shut. “Just! It’s fine, I’m fine, don’t look at me! Go do your mission, oh my god.”

Keith’s eyebrows rise. He looks over at Kolivan, who just stares back evenly, as if to say, _I have experienced more in my lifetime that you ever will, but even I don’t know what’s wrong with your friend._

Lance is still making pained noises.

“Okay, then…I’m, uh, I’m heading off,” Keith says slowly. “Later?”

Lance thunks his head onto something out of frame. His voice is strangled when he says, “Yeah, buddy, I’ll see you later. Stay safe.”

Keith goes on the mission and spends a dangerous amount of the time just thinking about Lance blushing. He nearly gets his head chopped off. Kolivan must never know.

 

 

 

 

Regris isn’t the only member he goes back for.

He’s always got a good reason why he never fails to haul mission partners back to the extraction point—citing datachips and intel, whatever—but it’s just a thin excuse that he’s sure Kolivan sees through. At this point, he thinks the Blade leader is just letting him do what he wants, knowing it’s a lost cause to try and order him to leave them behind.

_(half of the reason why he goes back for them is because he knows them all a bit better now, reticent and cold as they are, he knows their names_

_but the other half is that sometimes—_

_sometimes, he sees his team in them._

_—he hauls Jetrif from an explosion, and their smaller stature reminds him of Pidge—_

_—he grabs Nybek when the ground gives away under them, latching onto arms as slim as Allura’s and just as strong—_

_—he deviates from mission directives to retrieve Zovuryl, long limbs stuck under collapsed support beams, and Keith struggles to blink away the image of Lance—_

_sometimes he sees his team in them and he doesn’t listen to—can’t listen to_

_mission over individual. mission over individual._

_those days are the coldest.)_

 

 

Rindal approaches Keith one day in the mess hall and says, completely out of the blue, “We appreciate your efforts. Though foolish, we nonetheless owe you our continued survival.”

Keith blinks, puts down his spoon. The goo in it jiggles violently and he loses his appetite entirely. He pushes his plate away. “I…you’re welcome, I guess?”

Rindal nods, stiff. “We would like to offer some advice in return. It is the least we can do.”

“Okay,” Keith says.

“If you feel the need,” Rindal begins, stilted, “to return to your team, we advise that you heed it. We will endeavour to cover your duties in your absence.”

Keith sits back in his chair, frowning. He thought he was doing a good job. “Are you kicking me out?”

“No,” Rindal says, and Keith relaxes. “We simply understand that as an adolescent—in terms of your galra heritage,” he adds at Keith’s dark look, “your health might decline while away from your _naihemaa.”_

“My what,” says Keith. “I don’t understand, I’m not sick.”

Rindal gives Keith a long, considering look. “…You will come to understand. Remember what I said, little one.”

Keith straightens. “I am not _little_ —”

But Rindal’s already walking away.

Keith scowls.

 

 

 

 

Five months in, Keith’s stolen all the extra blankets in the base. He doesn’t catch anyone sending him looks, but he knows they watch him sometimes.

The blankets aren’t enough.

 

 

 

 

When he left, he brought only himself, his knife, a pack of underwear and his toothbrush.

He left behind his clothes and the meager possessions he gained throughout the mission with Voltron. He told himself he didn’t need them.

He eats in the suit, sleeps in the suit, trains in the suit and does just about everything with the suit on. There’s so little downtime that it’d be pointless to change out of it.

Every once in a while, when it gets too confining, he presses a button on his neck and the suit dematerializes, settling into a collar around his throat. He doesn’t do it often; it’s too cold.

Nowadays, he wishes he took his jacket with him.

Here, everything is purple, or black, or purple-black. His eyes want yellow, want green and red, blue and orange. He wants something other than glowing violet.

 

 

 

 

He wants _home_.

 

 

 

 

“—while our forces are taking control of the planets, Naxzela will already be under attack.”

They look good, Keith thinks. Maybe a little sleepy but overall, healthy. It settles something in him to see them standing and moving and breathing. The last subspace call was with Lance, over two weeks ago, and he hasn’t heard much about how they've been since then.

Kolivan does the talking and Keith is fine with that, finds no reason to speak up. Finds he can’t muster up the strength to. He’s been awake for seventy-six hours and he’s dead on his feet. Jetrif has been sending him increasingly worried looks for the past ten minutes.

“—form Hunk’s giant laser cannon, and be all like, ‘Pow! Pow! Pow!’ Easy-peasy,” says Lance, with a signature smirk. Underneath his arms, Hunk and Pidge give him a bewildered stare. Keith feels his mouth twitch, fondness welling in space just under his throat.

“Unfortunately, not that easy,” says Shiro, still staring up at the hologram.

Even through the quality of the video, Keith sees how Shiro’s lack of reaction makes Lance lower his arms, makes him quietly step back, face going blank.

Keith shifts on his feet, a purposeful movement, and nearly grins when Lance’s eyes snap immediately to him. They lock eyes and Lance’s mouth twists to the side, not quite a smile but not quite a frown either.

Something passes between them, through the call, through the numerous planets and galaxies between them, a sort of understanding and acknowledgement, of a recollection about their last conversation. The tautness in Lance’s shoulders loosen, the quirk in his mouth softening into something more genuine and Keith struggles to keep a self-satisfied smile off his face; he’s still on screen after all.

His gaze slides a little to the right, and he blinks.

Pidge is looking between him and Lance, eyebrows rising the more she stares. She fixes Keith with a meaningful look and he swallows, willing his face not to blush.

He tunes back into the conversation just in time for it to end and he straightens, focus back onto the impending attack.

“Let’s get started.”

 

 

 

 

The base on Senfama is secured, and Keith has his hands on the Zaiforge cannon controls.

It’s absolutely surreal.

You’d think after a year and some months in space, with most of that time spent piloting a robot cat and fighting purple, furry-eared people, that controlling a cannon wouldn’t be this weird.

“This is just overkill,” Keith says incredulously. “Way too powerful to be operated by what’s basically an alien version of a video game console.”

Zovuryl flicks an ear at him, both amused and reproachful. “Focus.”

“I am,” says Keith, brows furrowed. “I’m focusing so hard on not accidentally activating the cannon. It’s way too easy to fire this thing—you just thrust the controls forward! What if I trip and throw my hands out and blow up like five planets? And where are the security measures? I didn't even need to input an authorization code. Anyone could come in here and rip holes through entire galaxies.”

“It’s coded for galra DNA only,” Nybek says.

Keith frowns harder. “Still not secure enough. Anyone can have galra DNA, not just loyal soldiers—I mean, look, I’m using it right now. And you know, I bet Matt’s gonna have a breeze hacking through that.”

Kolivan sighs, sounding put-upon. “The snark, I’m used to. But you aren’t usually this…chatty.”

“I literally just took out a ship’s shields lightyears away from us with this little thing.” Keith very carefully waves the controls over at the man. “I’m allowed to be a little shaken. I didn’t realize how ridiculous galra weapons can be. Though the robeast at the start of all this should’ve clued me in.”

Kolivan sighs again and puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Let’s just let them know we're ready to provide cover.”

 

 

 

 

Matt’s voice comes through the comms, panicked. “Zaiforge cannon Senfama, are you still operational?”

“Negative,” Keith replies, watching uneasily as the controls disappear between his hands, the consoles around them powering down.

“That incoming battle cruiser must have shut them down remotely,” Coran says.

“Shit. Sorry, Shiro, that’s it for artillery support,” Keith says. “What should we do about that cruiser?”

A buzz of interference and then Shiro says, “—gonna be too late. Naxzela’s almost secure. We just need to take out the last of the heavy artillery—on our left! Shield up!”

Keith hears the high-pitched whine of a cruiser cannon before the comms cut out and he turns to Kolivan. “There’s nothing we can do to help them with those cruisers from here.”

Nybek steps forward. “Perhaps we should strip down this base, find whatever intel we can and dismantle everything else. Make it harder for them to salvage it.”

Kolivan nods. “Split the base among yourselves. We meet back where we came through in twenty.”

 

 

 

 

Keith downloads what he can, setting small charges as he goes. His footsteps echo through the dead corridors, that constant whirr of energy conspicuously absent.

In the silence, the cold creeps back in.

He’s sweating, been running and fighting, but shivers crawl up and down his spine, tapping blunt, icy nails against his vertebrae.

He wonders if he can go back to the team, once this is finished. Even if it’s just for a little while, just until the Blade needs him again. Maybe he could even move back into the castle and just have Kolivan send him on operations around its vicinity, close enough that he could come home everyday to something other than galra grub and an impersonal bed.

He thinks he’d like that.

_(mission over individual. mission over—_

_mission over?)_

 

 

 

 

The cruiser headed for Naxzela has stopped.

Keith looks at Kolivan, who suggests that maybe the galra have decided to cut its losses. But Keith knows. He knows they never stop attacking.

There’s a jolt at the back of his head, a sort of angry tug backwards and Keith’s head jerks up, certainty and dread filling his body.

_(trapped under the force of a witch’s spell, gravity spiking, a certain paladin growls and thinks, if keith was here—)_

He tries to call Shiro, because Shiro is the leader, because Shiro is supposed to keep them all safe—will keep the team safe. “Shiro, can you hear me? Shiro!”

There’s no answer.

Distantly, he hears Coran’s worried attempts to get through to Voltron, but Keith’s already turned to Kolivan, who gives a single, deliberate nod. _Go._

Keith hands Kolivan the detonator for his charges. “Coran, I’m gonna check it out. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Alright,” says Coran. “Stay vigilant out there, Keith. We don’t know what that cruiser’s up to.”

“All the more reason for me to hurry,” Keith mutters, heading for the ship below him. _Hang in there, guys._

Getting the ship off the planet is easier than breathing; the flight systems are something he got used to working with a week into his training with the Blade. Fingers hovering over the console, he hesitates before passing over Naxzela and setting a course for the cruiser. He calls Matt.

“Something’s wrong, I can’t reach Voltron.”

“We could fly over there; check up on ‘em,” Matt suggests.

“No, I need your help.” Keith breathes out, grips the controls tighter and tries to remember what it was like when he sat in the black’s lion cockpit, Lance on his right, Pidge to his left, Hunk and Allura flying just behind. “I can’t explain why, but I know we need to attack that fleet.”

Matt sounds confused. “I thought the fleet had stopped.”

“It has,” Keith says, “but we’re afraid it has something to do with Voltron.”

There’s not a second of hesitation before the reply comes through, sure and steady. “We’re with you.”

“Copy that.” Keith smiles. “Good to have you along.”

“I’m coming too!” Coran says. “Might take me a while. I’m on the other side of the galaxy and I don’t have enough of Allura’s energy to work the teledav.”

“No, stay in position,” Keith says. “We might need you back there.”

He’s expecting some protests and tries not to feel weirdly stunned when the older man offers up none.

 

 

 

 

Shiro comms him, and the information he brings makes the situation immediately a million times worse. If Keith thought the Zaiforge cannons were overkill, having a planet be a bomb as a base’s defense measure is god-level excessiveness.

The team is off the planet, but still within the blast radius. They need to take out the cruiser’s weapon. The only problem is, they can’t get through the barrier; it’s too strong.

Keith’s ship takes a hit to its left wing and he shakes his head, disoriented.

Matt appears on his screen, hair askew and eyes wild, fearful. “We’ll never penetrate those shields!”

Keith stares out his viewscreen, breathing hard. His eyes are locked onto that _awful glowing violet_ barrier and he grinds his teeth. He’s sick and tired of seeing that colour everywhere; when he sleeps, when he wakes, when he eats, and when he _looks at himself_. He’s had enough.

His team are seconds away from being blown up and _all_ he has to do is _get through that barrier_ , he just needs to do that and everything will be fine, but how—

And then suddenly, he knows.

_(mission over individual. mission over individual_

_mission: keep them safe_

_individual:_

_individual:_

_keith)_

 

 

 

 

He sets a course for a head-on collision and thrusts the controls forward.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry but like i had so many feelings bc of [Keith's face in this scene](https://www.flickr.com/photos/153362244@N08/37560978570/in/dateposted-public/) like??? it just got me thinking about what _he's_ thinking that's got him making a face like _that_ and i jsut fkgfsjdfa
> 
> (i snuck in my headcanons about mind-joining altean technology and its possible side-effects in regards to keith and lance idk if u noticed but like...i might write more idk)
> 
> (we know almost nothing about the galra culture or what a mythical word for family/blood-brothers/team would be so i just made up naihemaa)
> 
> next chapter: lance gets mad and keith doesn't know why lmao


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance finds out.

To say that the punch comes as a surprise would be putting understatement to shame.

But it _is_ a surprise and Keith stumbles. Falls flat on his ass, jaw throbbing and shock reverberating in his head.

In front of him, Lance stands, anger incandescent. His eyes have gone flinty; a cold, cold blue and the material of his suit squeaks in his fists. He’s breathing hard.

“You—” Lance makes a half-aborted step towards Keith. He raises a single finger at him. “ _You._ ”

Keith tries to say _what about me,_ but his mouth opens and nothing comes out. He feels incredibly dumb, sitting here with his legs sprawled open in the middle of the castle hallway, with what feels like a bruise the size of a small landmass forming on his face.

This isn’t how he’d thought it’d be, seeing Lance again after five months.

“I can’t _believe_ you,” Lance says, “I can’t believe the—the _nerve_. Of you. How dare—how could you even _think_ —”

Lance cuts off with a strangled, furious noise in his throat, a flush working up his neck. He puts his head in his hands, exhaling forcefully.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Keith gets up and takes a few steps forward, hand tentatively extended and heart racing.

“Lance, I—um.” He lays his hand on Lance’s shoulder and tries not to feel too relieved when it’s not shrugged off. He can still feel the force of that punch. He’s not sure what’s happening, why Lance is so angry with him—a different, harder kind of anger than what comes with their normal bickering—but he thinks caution is needed, here. “…Are you okay?”

“Am _I_ okay, he asks.” Lance’s voice is dull, muffled by his hands. “God, Keith, you’re the worst.”

Keith takes a step back, hurt. He thought…he thought they’d gotten over this.

Lance looks up. He lurches forward, a panicked look on his face. “No, hey, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that—I. You’re not the worst, sorry I just. I’m…god, give me a second, fuck.” He wraps a hand around Keith’s wrist, holding tight.

And that, more than any of the words he’s spoken, finally sinks in for Keith that something is wrong. Lance’s hand is _shaking_. So badly that Keith’s entire arm trembles with it. The heat of Lance’s fingers is grounding, tangible even through the fabric of his gloves and Keith’s Marmora suit.

It’s been a while since anyone’s touched him without the intent to attack.

Lance sighs. “Okay.”

“…Okay,” Keith repeats.

Lance looks at him. Looks away. He starts tugging him down a familiar corridor. “We’re not doing this out here.”

Keith’s unease rises and he wonders if Lance just wants to punch him where no one can come across them. _But that’s what the training facility is for,_ Keith thinks.

The door to Lance’s room slides open and Keith takes a second to look around. He sees knickknacks and alien tokens; more than he can remember seeing last time he was in here. He finds himself wondering which coalition planet the shield on the wall came from, or what that intricately carved wooden stick is for, or what the story is behind the new polariods taped above Lance’s headboard.

He feels like he’s fallen behind, somehow.

Lance takes a deep breath and Keith jolts out of his thoughts, readying himself for a fight. It’s gonna be hard to let him blow off steam in someplace so small, and how is Keith going to keep Lance’s stuff from breaking? Their spars can get intense.

But then Lance says, “You wanna explain to me what happened out there?”

Keith blinks.

“Wait, we aren’t sparring?” he asks.

Lance stares at him. “Why. Why the fuck would we be—Keith, we’re in my _room_.”

“I thought you were angry—”

“I _am_ angry—”

“—and that you wanted to beat me up in private,” Keith finishes, confused.

“Keith,” Lance groans, “Keith, no. No, dude, that’s what the training room’s for.”

Keith nods, satisfied they’re still on the same page.

“I’m furious,” Lance says, and there’s that hardness in his eyes again, “because Matt told me you _tried to kill yourself_.”

Oh.

Oh, so they aren’t on the same page.

“He said you were going to _ram your ship_ into the cruiser’s barrier,” Lance continues. His voice gets quieter and quieter. “To destroy the weapon. And stop all of us from blowing up. He said you were going to die. That you were _flying to your death_.”

Keith runs a hand through his hair. “It seemed like the only way.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

Lance gets right up in his space, puts a hand to his chest and pushes hard enough to send him stumbling back into the wall. Keith feels that familiar build-up of irritation and heat in his gut, and he scowls.

“How are you so stupid,” Lance spits. “’The only way’?”

“It was!” Keith says. “You _know_ it would’ve have been the only way to get through the barrier if Lotor didn’t _suddenly_ decide he wanted to play good guy.”

“Okay. So _maybe_ it was,” Lance says, eyes narrowing. “But tell me why you didn’t use the autopilot. Why you didn’t eject yourself out of there.”

“I—I didn’t. Think of that,” Keith says. “It was a tense situation, I had seconds to act—”

“You’re the best pilot I know! You can’t tell me you couldn’t possibly have activated the autopilot in a heartbeat!” Lance points at him. “Especially since your _covert missions_ with the Blade probably involved stealing some ships now and then; there’s no way you aren’t familiar with it by now!”

Keith bats Lance’s hand away from his face, pushing back. “Fine! I’d like to see you try to think clearly, knowing thousands of lives depend your decision!”

Lance scoffs. “News flash, Keith! I do that every day, in case you forgot about Voltron—”

“Yeah, and you did that so well, didn’t you? Getting stuck in a trap like that—”

Lance slices a hand through the space between them. “I _told_ Shiro we had to leave! I did! _He_ was the one who wanted to stay!”

“What?”

Lance pauses. Opens his mouth. Closes it. He gives his head a forceful shake. “Forget it, we’re not talking about that right now.”

“Wait, no.” Keith puts a hand on Lance’s arm, brows furrowed. “Shiro said to _stay_?”

“I said forget it, Keith. I’m still mad at you.”

Keith drops his hand, letting out a low growl. “Look, Lance, I get that you’re mad, but what I did was _right_ —”

“No, it was stupid!” Lance says. “Have you already forgotten that we just talked about the autopilot? Just admit Keith, you were _stupid_ , and you weren’t _thinking_ —”

“ _I was thinking!_ ” Keith yells. “Thinking that you were all going to die if I didn’t do something!”

Lance stops, thrown.

A beat of shocked silence and then the anger drains from Lance’s face, the tension in his neck going slack. He stares at Keith, eyes flicking over his face like they’re looking for something.

Keith stares back, trying desperately to push down the unreleased fear and helplessness and desperation he’s had twisting around in his chest since he realized the galra weren’t retreating, but waiting. Since he realized he couldn’t let the only family he’s ever known die without doing everything he could to stop it.

But something must show on his face because Lance’s expression crumples, pained, and he says, “ _Keith._ ”

“I had to do something,” Keith says. “Anything. I couldn’t let you—I just. All our allies, our friends, everything we’ve worked for, it would’ve all been taken away if—I couldn’t just stand there.”

“Keith,” says Lance.

“And. And you. You guys were going to—you weren’t gonna make it. Me and Matt, the group around Haggar’s ship, we would’ve been fine, but you guys were too close and I—I couldn’t let you die, Lance, I couldn’t.” Keith’s voice is ragged, strained with holding back the wave of grief and terror, finally hitting him after hours of battle. He curls his hands into fists, bows his head, struggling to keep his knees from buckling. _Stop it,_ he tells his body, _stop it._

“Keith, _come here,_ ” Lance says, and he pulls Keith in, arms drawing tight around his shoulders.

After months of being alone, of fighting alone and existing alone, the weight of someone around him has Keith shuddering. It’s warm, and like Lance’s hand on his wrist, he feels grounded for the first time in a long while, that persistent chill in his bones melting away the longer Lance holds him.

He raises his arms and wraps them around Lance’s waist, fingers slipping under suit armor. Places his head on Lance’s shoulder and _breathes_.

“Pidge just got her brother back,” he whispers. “They only just found each other—I didn’t want to imagine what it would’ve done to Matt if she…it would’ve killed him.”

Lance moves a hand to the back of Keith’s neck, just resting there.

“You guys would’ve _died_ ,” Keith says, “I know I left the team and that things…have moved on, but you—you guys are…you’re _family_.”

The words come spilling out and distantly, Keith is horrified, is embarrassed. But Lance is holding him and he’s so _tired._

“When—when I was away, fighting with the Blade and living with them, I didn’t stop thinking about you guys. About what Hunk was building, if Pidge was getting enough sleep, what ridiculous show Coran’s thought up now, if Allura was settling in with Blue, if Shiro was still getting headaches, if you had found someone else to help you train, I didn’t _stop_.” Keith is shaking, he can’t stop shaking. “I know I left—I _know_ , but the more I stayed away, the more I realized I just wanted to come back.

“I wanted to _go home_.”

As Keith speaks, Lance’s hold gets tighter and tighter, until he’s practically clutching onto Keith, breathing uneven.

“Why didn’t you?” he asks.

Keith shakes his head, presses his forehead into Lance’s neck and feeling a heartbeat against his skin. “There were missions—”

Lance jerks back to look at him. “Forget the missions!” He grips Keith’s arms and gives him a little shake.

“Lance, they were important—”

“I know that,” Lance says, “I do. But buddy, the Blade’s been doing fine without you for centuries. Sure, they’re stretched a little thin but you _know_ you could’ve left, or at least taken breaks in between. They’d have been fine.”

Keith looks down.

Sighing, Lance drops his arms. He steps away and Keith wants to tell him _no, come back_ but he just stands there and watches while Lance rummages through his closet. He re-emerges with a familiar red jacket.

“Take that suit off.”

Lance won’t meet his eyes.

“What?”

“Just—” Lance huffs and closes the distance between them again, pushing at the closures of Keith’s suit, mouth pulled down into an irritated line. “Off, off, take this shit off.”

“Alright, alright, hold on.” Keith taps the side of his neck and the suit dematerializes until all that remains is the collar. He looks up in time to see Lance go bright red, brighter than the jacket in his hands.

“Dude, what the fuck!” Lance yells, spinning around. “You’re—where are your clothes?!”

“I’m.” Keith looks down at his boxer briefs, flushing. Doesn’t this count as a clothing article? “I’m not wearing any?”

“No shit!” Lance yells again. The back of his neck is red. He rushes back into his closet. “Oh my god, okay, okay, this is fine. Just. Here. Put these on.”

A pair of pants and a shirt are thrown at Keith and he dutifully dresses himself, clearing his throat when he’s done. Lance turns around and thrusts Keith’s jacket at him. “You guys don’t wear anything under…that?”

Keith shrugs. “I don’t know about the others, but my suit’s kinda tight—”

“Oh my god,” Lance says quietly.

“—so it’s uncomfortable to try and squeeze jeans into it.” He slips the jacket on, taking a moment to feel the worn softness, the scuffed edges at the elbows and at the cuffs. When he puts his hands in the pockets, his fingers brush against coarse fabric. He takes them out and stares down at crumpled, familiar gloves.

“Put them on,” says Lance, so Keith does. The fabric settles over his knuckles and between his fingers, easy, like it hasn’t been months since he’s worn them.

Smoothing a hand down his chest and over his arms, he almost feels like himself again.

“There a reason why you had my clothes?” he asks Lance, teasing. There’s no reply and he raises his head to find Lance already staring back, a strange, vulnerable look on his face.

After a second, Lance shrugs. Steps closer and tugs at the lapels of Keith’s jacket, fiddling with them. They weren’t even crooked. There’s a troubling distant quality in the way he’s fixed his eyes on Keith’s chest and Keith reaches up, wraps his fingers around Lance’s wrists, gently. Lance goes still but he doesn’t look up.

“Lance?” Keith ducks his head, trying to catch Lance’s gaze.

A whisper of a sigh, and Lance says, “Lotor is gonna fuck us over.”

Keith blinks. “Uh…Yeah.”

“Naxzela is still a bomb that Haggar could reactivate at any time.”

“Uh huh.”

“Zarkon’s alive.”

“I know.”

“We lost a lot of allies in this fight, and we’re going to lose more.”

Keith frowns. “Lance—”

“The Blade are going to keep putting you on missions if you stay with them, and they’ll get more and more dangerous—and even more essential, I know—and we’ve got so many things to do, intel to uncover and bases to infiltrate. Not to mention all the people to talk to and meetings to attend—this whole saving-the-universe thing generates so much bureaucratic bullshit like you wouldn’t believe—and there’s. There are still planets out there under the Empire’s rule. Their survival…depends on our decisions.” Lance swallows. “On us playing our parts in this rebellion.”

Lance finally meets his eyes.

“I know that. And I know that you’re needed somewhere else, that you might say no, hell, you’re probably going to,” he smiles humorlessly. “But I still gotta ask.”

“…Ask what?” The words barely make it past Keith’s lips, quiet as they are.

The grip on his lapels relax but Keith tightens his hold on Lance, wanting to keep him close. Lance doesn’t move away, though, but instead presses his hands to Keith’s neck. His thumb brushes over the black strip of alien technology and Keith feels the touch across his throat like a brand. They’re standing so close, closer than Keith ever remembers being with Lance, and there’s a taste of vulnerability in the air.

Keith stares with wide eyes as Lance tips forward, until their foreheads rest against each other. Lance closes his eyes, and his breath brushes over Keith’s lips.

“Come back. Please.”

And Keith—

Keith hears Lance’s voice in his head, hears him recite a checklist of tasks after grueling tasks yet to accomplish, with no rest in sight. Hears the faint waver of his vowels when he said _dangerous_ , the catch in his breath at _decisions_. Keith plays back the rapid blinks when Lance said _you might say no_ and the imperceptible way his fingers slid up Keith’s neck when _please_ fell from his lips.

It all flicks through Keith’s head, his thoughts, a swirling mass of indecision. And he knows he shouldn’t, knows that months ago, he would’ve said no—did say no, but…

But in front of him is a friend, a brother-in-arms, a partner—Lance. Looking at him and waiting, and there’s resignation in the set of his jaw, but the way he refuses to let go of Keith’s gaze screams stubborn hope.

Lance is looking at Keith. Lance has his hands on him, touching him like he’s needed, like he’s wanted, like he’s missed. And Keith—

Keith gives in.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: lance apologizes, the team & keith interaction, more angst, i'm sorry


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i know i said more angst but honestly it's more h/c
> 
> enjoy :)

“Are you _sure_ you don’t need to use a healing pod?” Lance asks. He’s changed into normal clothes and sits crossed-legged on his bed, facing Keith, who’s perched at the edge with both feet on the floor.

He gives Lance a blank look. “I’m fine. I don’t even think I need the ice,” he says, moving the ice pack away from his jaw, frowning down at it. He doesn’t like the frostiness and the chill, the way it seeps through his skin and digs into his skin, invades his bones. He wiggles his frozen fingers, noting how slow they respond.

“Dude, of course you need it.” Lance tsks and puts his hand over Keith’s, guiding the pack back onto his face.

Keith winces when it touches his skin, stinging and wet, and instinctively, he lets go of the pack. Lance catches it before it can land on the bed and dampen the sheets, fumbling with it and hissing at the cold. He gives Keith a narrow-eyed look.

Keith just sticks his poor, popsicle-ized hand under his armpit and stares back petulantly. It’s _cold_. He doesn’t like it.

Lance rolls his eyes. He pulls the sleeve of his jacket over a hand and uses that to press the pack to Keith’s face.

“Lance, it’s _dripping,_ ” Keith groans, shoulders hunching. “There’s ice water on my _neck_.”

“I have seen you face down an entire room full of galra sentries,” Lance says, “but this is what gets you, in the end. Ten frozen cubes of harmless liquid in a bag. Do you hate the cold that much?”

“…I hoarded all the blankets they had in the Marmora base,” says Keith, and Lance laughs, a bright and surprised noise.

 _I want to hear that sound for the rest of my life,_ Keith muses. He blinks. Oh. Oh, no—

“I’m sorry about punching you,” Lance says suddenly. Keith tries to focus, but he’s strangely hyperaware of the pack between his jaw and Lance’s fingers. “You know that, right? I—I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“I know,” Keith says. “Just let me kick you around for a few rounds in the training room and we’re good.”

Lance pulls a face at that, but nods. “You know I’m not just gonna let you win, though, right?”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Keith says. He smirks.

He doesn’t mean anything by it but Lance’s mouth drops open slightly, a blush crawling up his neck and Keith frowns at him for a moment, bemused. He plays back the sentence in his head and—and—

Shit, okay, he thinks he might as well just give himself a punch—why did he say it like that? He wasn’t—he wasn’t trying to—to flir—to do what Lance does all that time, he wasn’t!

“I—I. That’s. Um!” Lance looks like he’s a second away from exploding, red as he is and sputtering like never before.

 _Why is he so flustered over this_ , Keith inwardly screams, _and why do I like it so much?!_

They stare at each other, both wordlessly confused and slightly panicked—a pair of red-faced idiots. Lance is _still_ holding the ice pack to Keith’s overheating face, and Keith doesn’t know how to tell him he’d fight Zarkon with a plastic knife if it meant Lance would drop the pack separating their skin from touching.

The thought makes Keith feel like he’s _burning_ for the first time in five months, makes him almost feel like he’s piloting Red again, heart pumping scorching-hot blood through his veins again. He’s sure he’s blushing to the roots of his hair and it’s—it’s—

_KNOCK KNOCK._

They jump apart, to opposite sides of the room and there’s a splat as the pack falls to the ground in a wet heap. Heavy breathing fills the silent room and Keith refuses to look away from the door to see if Lance still has that _(pretty)_ pink on his check. He _refuses_.

“Y-yeah?” Lance calls out.

“Stop hogging Keith!” yells Hunk. “We’ve been waiting forever!”

The door slides open and there stands the entire team, clustered around the entrance to the room. There’s a second where they all kind of stare at each other, Lance to Hunk to Keith to Shiro to Pidge to Allura to Coran to Pidge agai—wait no that’s Matt, and then Hunk advances on Keith with a cry, arms raised.

“Keeeiiithhh!” Hunk exclaims, and Keith gets a second to brace himself before he’s lifted straight into the air, breath whooshing out of him like a meteorite had sucker-punched him. To the side, Lance winces in sympathy.

“Keith, buddy, we missed you,” Hunk says, sniffling. Keith pats whatever part his trapped hand can reach and makes an agreeing noise, hoping it doesn’t sound too much like he’s being strangled.

“Good to…see you…too,” Keith wheezes. Hunks sobs a little and _squeezes._ Nevermind, he’s actually being strangled. “Hunk…can’t—breathe—”

“Oh, right, sorry!” Hunk sets him down, smoothing the back of his jacket when he coughs. “Dang, did I—are you injured from the fighting?”

Keith straightens, poking at his tender ribs. “No, no I’m okay. Your hug was just…very enthusiastic.” He looks around. “Wait, are _you_ guys okay?” He thinks he hears Lance mutter, “There he goes again. Unbelievable,” but he ignores it.

“We—we’re fine,” Allura says. Her fingers twist together nervously, and it’s so _weird_ because Keith has never seen her _fidget_ so much before. “Are you? Okay, I mean.”

Keith blinks. Didn’t he just—? “Yeah?”

“There isn’t like, any broken bones or internal bleeding or anything?” Pidge pipes up. She takes off her glasses, cleans them and then put them back on, adjusting them for a long second.

“No?” Keith answers, getting more and more perplexed. He shuffles from foot to foot.

Coran clears his throat. “That is very good to hear.”

Silence.

Lance puts a hand over his face. “Oh my god, just hug him already!”

Three and a half months in his stay with the Blades, after a mission where he dragged Rindal through kilometres of desert back to the ship, Rindal introduced Keith to his pet. This ‘pet’ was two metres tall on its hind legs, weighed a hundred and ten kilograms, looked like a cross between a dragon and a donkey, and absolutely crushed Keith into the ground and licked him within an inch of his life the second Rindal let him go. Rindal didn’t visibly react, but Keith swears his mouth twitched every time they crossed paths after that.

That, is _nothing_ compared to having five emotional people hurl themselves at him from all sides.

Hunk is sniffling again, into Keith's hair this time, Pidge has her head tucked under his chin, bumping into it and making his teeth clack together. Allura’s wrapped an arm around him _and_ Pidge and he eyes her biceps, hoping she remembers how much stronger she is than them. Coran is…Keith can’t see him, but he knows he’s there, feels an arm against his spine that might be the older man’s, and a tickling sensation at the back of his neck that Keith really hopes is not Coran’s moustache.

Keith tries to quietly spit out strands of Pidge’s hair and tips his head up to find air in this crush of bodies.

“Uh,” he says.

There’s an amused noise and Keith glances over to find Shiro and Matt leaning against each other, hands over their mouths.

Shiro catches his eyes and walks over to join the hug, settling an arm over Hunk and ruffling Keith’s hair. Keith scowls and tries to duck out of it without hurting Pidge but Shiro just grins and rubs harder. Turning his head, he says, “Lance, Matt, get in here.”

The two of them give each other a look, grin, and immediately start worming their way into the tangle of limbs. Keith groans.

_(he groans but he smiles too and inside his chest, in the space between heart and soul, the cold that’s been blistering and festering and numbing_

_finally_

_thaws out)_

And then Pidge asks, “Were you ever going to tell us?”

Keith closes his eyes, rests his cheek on the crown of her head. “…How would I even bring it up? What would be the point? It didn’t happen, anyway.”

No one says a word, but Keith feels their collective embrace tense around him.

“The point is,” Hunk says quietly, “is that we care.”

He pulls back just far enough to stare straight into Keith’s eyes, and everyone else does the same, opening up the distance just enough so Keith can breathe but there are still hands on him, arms around his back and shoulders. There’s still warmth and belonging surrounding him.

An uncharacteristic frown settles on Hunk’s face, somber and conflicted.

“We care about you,” Hunk continues, “and we want you to know that. We would want to know, would want you to tell us because then we could say that you should never ever _ever_ do anything like that again.”

Someone slides a hand up to the junction between Keith’s neck and shoulder, a gentle pressure. He turns his head and finds Allura, bright blue-green-purple eyes subdued. She says, “And we would want to tell you that we’re sorry.”

Keith tilts his head. _Sorry?_

“Sorry for whatever it is we did, that made you think we’d _ever_ be okay with you—with you dy—” she cuts off with choked noise, and her hand spasms on Keith’s shoulder. She closes her eyes, and Coran pulls her into his arms. He stares over the top of her head at Keith, the lines of his face pronounced, and with a start, Keith remembers Coran is _old_ , is _ancient_ , compared to them.

Coran saw it all when his planet fell. He was there to see his _people_ fall.

When Keith made his decision, Coran was listening, maybe he even saw it on the scanners. The look on Coran’s face says, had Keith succeeded, it would’ve been one more fall he would’ve had to witness.

Allura sniffles and Coran breaks his gaze to pat the Princess’s back. Keith blinks, idly wondering if maybe Alteans could communicate telepathically after all.

“Please never do that again,” Pidge whispers. She’s the only one who still hasn’t moved away from him, hasn’t even twitched since she tucked herself up under his chin and wrapped her arms around his back.

Slowly, like ice down his throat, Keith realizes with quiet dismay that he can’t promise them that. He can’t say he’ll never put everything on the line again to save them.

He puts a hand on her head. “Pidge, I…”

She pulls back, shaking her head. Her eyes are bright, and there are tears streaked on her glasses. Keith feels his chest constrict. “No, listen. You—you’re a part of _this team_ —part of Voltron, okay? You’re our teammate and you always will be. And do you know what being in a team means?”

Keith says, “I—we work together—?”

“Yes!” Pidge grabs his wrists, holds them firmly. “Yes, it means we work together, right, so if something like this happens again, we work _together_ to find a solution.”

Keith wants to say yes, god does he want, but he knows can’t. Because sometimes they’ll be separated, sometimes they won’t be able to help each other, they’ll be too far out of reach to help. In fact, this time, they _were_ separated, that’s why he had to…had to—

_(stare down death, stare down purple-black_

_glowing violet,_

_staring until he couldn’t anymore,_

_until he had to close his eyes, had to think of team team team because—_

_—because he didn’t want the last thing he’d ever know to be anything else_

_but them)_

 

—had to put the mission first.

_(keep them safe)_

He stays quiet, because he can’t promise this, can’t promise them this and inevitably end up breaking it.

Pidge stares at him, stares until understanding sneaks into the crease of her brows and she drops her head, letting go of his wrists. She bites her lip, shoulders drawn up past her ears.

He's still in the middle of them all, still surrounded on all sides like he's something to be protected, but Pidge was the only one left who was still touching him and now she’s not. Keith feels untethered.

“Then promise us you’ll try.”

Keith jerks his head up, looks across the room to where Lance stands beside Shiro and Matt, his arms crossed. The blue of his eyes has gone dark again, like right after he had let loose a punch on Keith.

He walks forwards, puts an arm around Pidge’s shoulders and says to Keith, “Promise us you’ll try never to do something like that again. That you’ll do _everything else_ before you even _think_ of—of giving yourself up like that.”

He reaches for Keith with his free hand and slides it around the back of Keith’s neck, fingers moving through the strands of his hair, scraping lightly on his nape. Keith holds back a shudder.

“We’re not worth it,” Lance says, “We’re not worth more than you.”

Keith frowns, uncomprehending. He doesn’t get it. Of course they're worth more, seven over one, mission over individual alwa—

“We _aren’t_ ,” says Lance, voice hard, like he knows what Keith is thinking. He pauses and his hand moves back to cup the side of Keith's throat, thumb sweeping over the line of his jaw. It's a slow drag of calloused skin and Keith wishes it would never stop.

Lance studies his face, unhurried, and says, “Don’t you trust me? Didn’t you say you’d believe me, no matter what?”

The answer to that is glaringly obvious and Keith feels a mix of exasperation and affection because _of course_ Lance would use Keith’s own words against him, weeks after their call. Of course he would.

 _God,_ he’s missed this.

He laughs, a short burst of amazement—of relief, and the team jumps, startled.

“Yeah,” says Keith, putting a hand over his eyes. “Yeah, I trust you.” He slides the hand up his head, sweeping his hair back and smiles, crooked. He looks around the room, at Allura and Coran and Pidge and Shiro and Hunk, and even Matt.

They stare back, hope and understanding and patience in varying degrees, waiting for him, and he’s reminded of the scene he walked into, five months ago. It’s a complete reversal.

He still doesn't quite understand, still can't see how Lance could say  _we're not worth it_ like he doesn't know that, to Keith, they're  _always_ worth it—that they're worth everything. And how Keith's just one guy but the fact that they still think he's just as equal to them, is even more of a mystery.

He doesn't believe it, not yet, but seeing them alive and well, seeing them look at him the same way he looks at them, he thinks he could be convinced.

Keith says, “Okay. I promise I’ll try.”

He can try. For them, he’ll try.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You punched him?” Hunk cries. “Dude!”

“I know, alright, I know! I apologized for it!” Lance puts his head in his hands. The team laughs.

They’ve moved to the lounge, wanting space but still unwilling to let Keith out of their sight. And Keith’s surprised to find that he’s okay with that; he hasn’t felt the need to retreat to get some solitude just yet, even after all that…intense hugging and talking in Lance’s room.

“Well, Lance _does_ pilot Red, nowadays,” Shiro says, teasing. “Maybe the temperament comes with it.”

Lance groans again, sliding down in his seat beside Keith. His legs are obnoxiously splayed open and his left thigh presses against Keith’s knee.

On the other side of Keith sits Pidge, fiddling with another one of her projects as Matt occasionally points things out. Shiro, Coran, and Allura sit across from them on the other couch, practically obscured by holographic screens, filled with various updates on rebel forces, supply acquisition forms, and messages from medical facilities on the injured.

“I saw you run off after Matt told us what happened, but I thought you were gonna go cry on him or something. Not _punch_ the guy.” Hunk pushes Lance jokingly, and Lance rocks into Keith’s space even more, shoulders bumping.

Keith shifts closer and tries not to melt when he ends up pressed against Lance’s side, shoulder to knee.

Lance throws his hands out, affront practically pouring off him. “Why would you think I’d cry over _Keith_?”

Keith frowns, weirdly disappointed. “Hey—”

“I don’t know, Lance,” Shiro says, idly swiping through the screens. He glances up and smirks. “Maybe it’s because when we found Keith’s jacket in the laundry, you burst into tears.”

Lance’s mouth drops open, betrayed, as Matt drops the tools in his hands and howls with laughter. Everyone else grins wide and Allura giggles, hands over her stomach.

“I can’t believe you,” Lance says to Shiro, voice faint. His face is _glowing_ _red_.

“You cried over me?” Keith asks, surprised and a little bit pleased.

Lance twitches at the sound of his voice, but continues glaring at Shiro. “Leader of Voltron, my ass, you just threw me under the bus!”

Shiro shrugs, unrepentant, the grin on his face making him look years younger.

“Is that why you had my jacket in your closet?” Keith wonders, head cocked to the side.

Lance whips his head around to look at him, and Keith didn’t think it was possible, but Lance’s blush intensifies. His neck and ears are flushed too, and Keith’s eyes drop to the collar of his shirt, curious as to how far down it goes.

“You weren’t supposed to—no one knows about that!” Lance sputters.

“On the contrary,” Coran interjects, a finger stroking his moustache, “we were all very much aware you’d taken it. We didn’t want to draw attention to it because we thought…well.”

“Thought _what_ ,” hisses Lance, so adorably, incredibly flustered.

Pidge leans over Keith’s lap, mouth stretched wide in the most mischievous smile he’s ever seen on her. “We thought you were _pining_.”

Matt bursts out laughing for the second time, which of course, sends everyone else spiraling into laughter, wheezing and hiccupping and snorting.

Lance just stares at them all in disbelief. He turns to Keith, who just puts a hand over his mouth and tries not to let his shoulders shake with mirth.

Suddenly, the door to the lounge swishes open to reveal Kolivan, standing there with Nybek, Rindal, Zovuryl, and Jetrif. The room goes quiet.

Kolivan locks eyes with Keith, twitches his large ears purposefully and before Keith can do more than pale, says loudly, “At least _he_ doesn’t accidentally call his teammates by the wrong names multiple times. I’ve lost count on how many occasions Keith has addressed me as ‘Shiro’.”

“Oh my god,” Hunk whispers, after a beat of stunned silence, “oh my god, this is amazing.”

“I keep getting someone named ‘Pidge’?” says Jetrif, tail curling around his leg.

Pidge turns to Keith with a wicked grin, and he puts a hand over his face, embarrassed.

Nybek turns to Allura with a bow. “Keith has honoured me with the Princess’ name.”

The look Allura sends Keith is conflicted, like she doesn’t know if she should be happy to be included or offended she was compared to a Galra.

Rindal walks up to Hunk, extending a hand. Hunk takes it bemusedly. “We resemble one another in build, Keith says.”

Hunk nods contemplatively and then they all turn to Zovuryl, expectant.

Keith has a wild moment where he seriously considers leaping over the back of the couch to take her down, but then she cocks a feathered brow and he remembers the longest he’s lasted against her in training is a forty-two seconds. He sinks back in his seat.

Zovuryl addresses Lance with a sly smile and says, “Keith pays too much attention to our legs, red paladin.”

Lance jerks straight up in his seat, and Keith fixes a glare on Kolivan, then Zovuryl, conflicted as to who he’s going to kill in their sleep. They both give him unimpressed looks and he bares his teeth petulantly.

Matt is howling again. This time, Keith wishes he would shut up.

“I can’t do this anymore, Pidge,” Matt gasps, “I’ve laughed too much today—I feel like I’m dying.”

Allura reaches over, pats his hand consolingly and oddly, Matt goes stone-cold. His face freezes, mouth wide open in an aborted snort and legs lifted off the ground during his rolling fit of hilarity.

Pidge takes one look at her brother and cackles, slapping his arm repeatedly. Their project wobbles precariously on the edge of the cushions.

Allura sends Shiro a confused look, to which he just responds with equally clueless shrug. Giving Matt one last concerned frown, she turns to Kolivan and smiles hesitantly.

She looks like she’s never seen the man before, which…is understandable, considering the fact that it took Keith three months to see Kolivan make any other expression besides disgruntled tolerance. For Allura, seeing him poke fun at someone was probably like seeing a cow give birth.

“Are you in need of our assistance? Has Lotor made a move since he last contacted us?” she asks.

Kolivan shakes his head, the faint amusement fading from his yellow eyes. “No, Princess. We were just on our way back to our ship and went looking for Keith when we heard his voice in here.” He shoots Keith a side-long glance. “But we see now that it wasn’t necessary, since it seems he will be staying.”

Hunk holds up a hand. “Wait, you’re _staying_?” he asks Keith. “Like, actually?”

“I really thought you were going to leave again,” Pidge says, voice small. “You’re not?”

Keith glance between his team, suddenly unsure. "I mean—I hope I can stay? If that’s okay?”

“Keith,” Shiro says, eyes warm, “of course that’s okay. That’s more than okay.”

“Group hug!” Hunk throws his arms into the air, and Rindal hurriedly backs up to avoid being hit in the face.

“No—” Keith starts, rising from his seat as if to run but Lance’s hand shoots out and latches around his wrist. He pulls back and Keith lands _directly in his lap_. The team converges in on them a second later, a mix of happy noises and muffled sobs.

Keith sits there, amidst teary-eyed, rejoicing teammates but he can't seem to register anything but Lance’s arms around his stomach, Lance’s thighs bracketing his, Lance’s chest against his back, solid and _so warm how is he so warm what the hell???_

He wants to die, he can’t take this, there are so many bodies around him, it’s too warm, he’s never been this warm before and maybe it’s a little nice but _Lance is basically giving him a backhug and that’s a little_ too _nice—_

He shoots the Blades a panicked look but receives nothing except their version of gleeful amusement—twitching ears and marginally relaxed eyebrows. They turn to leave and right before the door closes, Rindal turns back to him and mouths,

 

_Naihemaa._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand that's the end!! hoped you guys enjoyed and comments and kudos are very much appreciated!!!!!!!!! have a nice day!!!
> 
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> [my tumblr, send me a message!!](http://hiuythn.tumblr.com/)
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